Loss
by thecrimsonstarz
Summary: Something in him snapped. Succeeding his artificial, careful composure and calm was something less… Respectable, less admirable.


At the witnessing of Kirk's final moments, and at witnessing the haunting image of radiation poisoning that had spread along his skin, the half-Vulcan had froze. The concentration of the emission within the secured door would not allow for his body to cope, to repair; cancerous tissue was left behind. Multiple visible burns spread along his outer tissue, and he could only imagine what further effects were occurring within the man's body. Given the high emission, if he were to go in to attempt to retrieve Kirk, he would undoubtedly be affected as well. It was clear to him that the blond would not make it, he had been exposed to too much radiation for too long a period of time. There was nothing that he could do for him.

Something in him snapped. Succeeding his artificial, careful composure and calm was something less… Respectable, less admirable. The philosophy that he actively lived out and that he strove to be, the teachings of Surak, of Vulcan logic, no longer mattered. In it's stead was a void, and Vulcans' true nature took it's place; emotions consisting of extreme violence, heavy emotion, and rage.

" Stop! SPOCK, STOP! " Came a series of pleas in a rather urgent, yet frightened tone. He hardly heard them through his heightened rage, his sick sense of victory. He had managed to pin the man down, and continually slammed his fists against the man's face in rapid succession. Normally, this would kill a human, but the man appeared to be unaffected. In any other case, he may have reasoned that the man's tissue had an increased ability to heal over a shorter interval of time… But he did not stop. He wanted to see the man dead. It was his doings that resulted in the Captain's death; through a series of events manipulated by him to achieve his goals. With his evident wit… He had taken the Captain, he had taken his friend.

The man appeared to be weakening. As a result, the half-Vulcan's punches quickened, and the force of them increased drastically. Finally, he could avenge the Captain—

" HE'S ALL WE HAVE TO SAVE KIRK. "

A final punch thrown the man's way, fist colliding with cheek bone with a sickening crack. He stopped. At the lieutenant's words, his anger dissipated for the most part, a sense of hope taking it's place. Then, after considerable time, the villain was secured.

" The damned blood should have worked, " The doctor spat, placing a hand against his forehead, indicative of extreme stress. " It regenerated the tissue on the fuzzball and it worked on him too, but.—"

" He is brain-dead, " The half-Vulcan concluded, stating what the others were too afraid to admit to.

There was no need for the doctor to explain that there had been too much time since the Captain's death. Nor was there need for the man to explain that the blond had not been placed in the cryotube soon enough. If the man had been placed in there soon enough, his brain would not have suffered necrosis as a result of the absence of brain oxygenation. His state would have been ' frozen' as it was minutes after death; the regenerative blood would have repaired the negative effects of the radiation poisoning; his brain would be unaffected by the momentary death of his body. … And he would have woken up. But they had not done it soon enough.

The capturing of Khan, the usage of his blood, the placing of Kirk within the cryotube. The hope that dwelt within him since that time had been for nothing. As a Vulcan, he should have known that a notion such as hope was foolish. The only thing that kept the man alive was the support of the surrounding machinery; without them, he would have been dead by now. There was nothing of him left.

The doctor was both hesitant and destroyed to announce the death of James T. Kirk.

The half-Vulcan gasped awake, and stared up at the familiar ceiling of his quarters. It had been a dream… He swallowed, and took in slow, meditative breaths. Then he sat up in his bed, before pushing himself out of the blankets, and he wandered over to his desk.


End file.
